Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
“You have to warm up.” Hook sits me on the table in his cabin. “You’re soaked through.” He goes to one of the hidden cupboards in the wall and pulls out a small bottle and a piece of cloth. “Take off your clothes so I can—”
“No.” I flinch back and wrap my arms around myself.
He sighs, his back expanding and then lowering. “I’m not going to hurt you, lass.” When he turns to me, his gaze goes right to my mouth, and then he wets the small square of white cloth with the liquid from the bottle.
“This’ll help.” He walks to me and dabs the stuff along my lip. It stings a little, but I suppose that must mean it’s working. His thumb drifts to my cheek. Ire kindles in his eyes, fire in an endless pool. “That fucking bastard.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re not.” He runs a hand through his wet hair and slings the water towards the windows. “I should’ve come up to check on you. He never would’ve gotten his hands on you if I’d stuck close by.”
Does he know that I escaped all on my own? I don’t know, but I’m definitely not going to mention it. Not after what he did to Calico Jack.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” He rubs his thumb gently across my cheek once more before stepping back.
“No.” It’s not entirely true. My ribs are sore from when Cock and Balls threw me in the rowboat, but I’m not going to show him the injury, and I don’t want him ordering me to take my clothes off again.
“You’re not good at lying, lass. There’s no point trying.” He dabs at my lip a little more, then pulls the cloth away, a few traces of blood on it.
“I’m not mermaid-bite injured. Just regular injured. Nothing serious.”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t push farther. He strides to the door and opens it. The accountant-looking pirate is stationed outside again.
“Smee, tell Cookson to bring up the firepot and get a small one going on deck. Grab a cannonball and put it right next to it so it can warm up.”
Smee looks nothing short of confused, but all he says is “yes, Captain” before turning on his heel and heading below deck.
“Fire on a wooden ship? Doesn’t sound very safe.” I rub my upper arms, the same seawater chill I remember all too well seeping into my bones.
“Cookson is the only one I trust with a flame.” Hook goes to his closet and pulls out one of his white shirts, then digs toward the back, rummaging until he stands up with a pair of gray pants in his hand.
“These won’t fit.” He spins again and digs around some more before pulling out a worn leather belt. “But you can use this.”
“I told you, I’m not taking my clothes off.” I slide off the table and back away from him. “Not happening.”
He moves toward me slowly and lays the clothing on the bed. “I’m going to see about the fire. Change in here. You’ll be safe. No one will bother you. I can even send Widow in if you like.”
“Yes.” I think having that fierce pirate in here might help settle my nerves. Because, at the moment, I still feel Calico Jack’s hand at my throat. I lift my hand to my neck and brush my fingers along my skin.
“There’s a mark there, lass.” His anger rises again, but he pauses, clearly making an effort to temper it. “Not a bad one. Should fade in a few days.”
“You’ve had worse, I suppose?” I let my gaze linger along the scar on his cheek.
“Maybe a few times,” he says wryly, then steps closer to me, his movements slow, as if I’m a fawn and he doesn’t want to startle me.
But that’s what I am, I suppose. I don’t belong in this violent world of dreams, of never, and of endless night.
It was always a pleasant bedtime story. Wendy left so much out.
It makes me wonder if Neverland changed or if Wendy did.
I look up at him, my eyes watering. “I shouldn’t be here at all. I’m not going to survive, am I? And when I die, I won’t wake up. I’ll be sitting next to my mother staring at the wall. Dead inside.”
He reaches for me, then pulls his hand back when I tense. Something passes across his face. Maybe sadness or possibly that angry fire I’ve been seeing spark and sizzle when I mention Calico Jack. But maybe it was … hurt? Surely not.
He backs away. “I’ll get Widow. Try to relax, all right? You’ve been through a lot.” With that he leaves and starts barking questions about the fire.
I look down at my night dress. Soaked and dirty with more than just soot and grime from the Ranger—it’s covered in Calico Jack’s fingerprints.
My throat closes up at that thought, and I reach down and yank the fabric up.
It sticks to me like a wetsuit, but I don’t stop pulling, not even when I hear stitches popping and the material ripping.
Once it’s off, I toss it to the corner and grab Hook’s clean shirt.
It’s sick, so damn sick, but I can’t help myself. I press it to my nose and inhale. I’m afraid of him. I know he’s out for my blood. But I still get an indescribable sense of comfort from his scent.
Shaking myself out of my brief insanity, I pull the shirt over my head, then grab the pants. They’re a little stiff, likely made of canvas or something similar, and once they’re on, they billow around my waist. The belt comes in handy, and I cinch it tight.
I gather my hair and tie it in a loose knot at the back of my neck, finishing up as a knock comes at the door. I recognize the cadence of it at once.
“Come in,” I call.
“—your stupid face with the back of my hand if I catch you taking a gander of my ass again.” She points at a red-faced Smee before slamming the door in his face.
“Is he a problem?” I ask.
She laughs. “No. Not at all. He wasn’t even looking at my ass. I just like to fuck with the pencil pusher.”
I lean against the table as she comes closer, her eyes taking me in.
“You’re hurt. Again.” She frowns and inspects my lip and cheek. “Fucking Calico Jack. I’m glad he got what he deserved. It was a long time coming.”
A chill goes through me, and I hug myself.
Her eyes narrow. “I knew he was an utter shitstain. I’d heard enough stories. Blackbeard never liked him, and I think Anne tried to kill him on more than one occasion. But she does that to all her husbands.”
“Wait, they’re married?” I feel like my mind’s been blown too many times to still be intact.
“Yeah, like I said, she’s been gunning for him for years.” She smirks. “But Hook is the one who finally sent him to the deep. No one could’ve predicted that even if they had a ship full of crystal balls coated in fairy farts.”
I laugh.
Her smirk turns into a smile as she pulls me into her arms. “I’m glad you’re all right.” She lowers her voice. “I wish you could’ve seen the look on Hook’s face when he found your rope hanging out the window. Work of art, that was.”
“Oh, shit. He knows I left?”
“Aye.” She pulls me back at arm’s length. “He stormed out of the cay cursing Blackbeard and his mother for a whore. I barely had enough time to throw in with him before he hightailed it back to the Jolly Roger and took off after you.”
“Why’d you do that?” I peer into her eyes. “I mean, why’d you leave Blackbeard and go with Hook? I don’t presume it was for me.”
“Not entirely, no.” She shrugs. “I suppose I felt the call of adventure. When I joined Blackbeard’s crew, we were only at sea for one season before he decided to retire and settle down with Huran.
I didn’t sign up to be a cook in a grand house.
The sea called to me then, and it called to me again when I saw Hook racing off to the water. ”
“So now you’re a pirate on the Jolly Roger. Is that a promotion?” I have zero clue how pirate rankings work. I assume there’s a clear hierarchy, especially since there’s a captain.
“I’d say it’s a bit of a sideways move as I’m hired on as a boatswain, but there’s a whole heap more fun out here on the water. And damn, it felt good to strike down some of those goddamn whoresons on Calico Jack’s sloop. They had it coming, the lot of them.”
She’s so fierce. Even now when she’s bruised and dirtied from battle, her braids hanging in disarray and her clothes torn and damp—she’s still ready to do some damage.
“I wi—” I stop myself before I say the dreaded ‘w’ word. “I mean, I would love to be like you,” I admit.
She cocks her head to the side. “Come again?”
“Just look at you!” I scoot around the table and sit on the bed.
She plops down beside me. “I’m a mess.”
“You fought! You went out there and like—I mean I saw you kill people!” I look down at my silly cinched belt and my aching leg. “I couldn’t even fight him off,” I say softly. “I tried, but I couldn’t stop him. If Hook hadn’t …”
She takes my hand in hers. “Can I tell you a story, Moira? I know that’s your forte with the Neverland lot, but I have one I think you may understand more than most.”
I nod. “Please.”
She gives me a decisive nod and takes a deep breath, and I can’t help but notice that she looks away as she begins speaking.
“I wasn’t always a pirate, which I suppose you can tell with my limited pirating resume.
Before I joined Blackbeard’s crew, I was in service to a big house on the mainland.
It was huge and grand—room after room—most of them empty save for art and bits of ornate furniture we weren’t allowed to sit on.
I worked in the kitchen under a cook who could blister you raw with nothing more than a look.
She was a dragon, one who taught me everything I know.
” She says it with a ghost of a smile. “I loved her like she was my ma. She wasn’t, of course.
My ma died when I was born. Anyway, that great house belonged to a great lord.
He was polite, though the sort that never really paid attention.
I think that’s how all rich people are. If everything’s handed to you, does it matter where it came from or who worked to make it?
No, I don’t think it does. The owner would throw lavish parties.
We’d watch from hallways and loiter with serving trays.
It was so overwhelming, especially me being so young.
” She squeezes my fingers. “Like you are now.”